


Things That Never Happened: Leo

by wheel_pen



Series: Lucy [25]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 12:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU of the Lucy universe. Lionel brings home a new little Luthor. This story is unfinished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things That Never Happened: Leo

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Lucy, my original character, is Clark’s cousin on the Kent side. Although human she may have some strange psychic powers and definitely has some issues in her past. She’s having a tough time with her mom and goes to live with Jonathan and Martha for a while. She and Lex form a relationship.
> 
> 2\. In my world, Lex eventually becomes President. And his staff is from The West Wing. 
> 
> 3\. I started writing this series during the third season of Smallville, so it diverges from canon then or earlier.
> 
> 4\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

            Thank G-d for school improvement days, Lex decided. It was one in the afternoon on a Monday and Lucy was on his couch, wearing those yellow overall shorts he secretly liked, swinging her bare feet back and forth as she read a book. And he was, of course, sitting studiously at his desk, in front of his laptop, reading the same reports he would have been reading at the office, had he been there instead of on an extended lunch break. A number of his employees had taken personal days so they could stay home with their school-age children, so Lex figured he was at least entitled to a three-hour lunch.

            It took him a moment to realize the legs he was staring at had stopped swinging in mid-air, and he smirked a bit sheepishly at being caught, preparing himself for a wisecrack from Lucy. When he tried to make eye contact, however, he found her gazing off at nothing, eyes unfocused. Which could only mean one thing.

            “Lucy?” he asked with some concern. She hadn’t had a bad experience with her… vision in several months now; he had been hoping they were gone for good.

            After a moment she shook her head and met his gaze. “Your father’s coming,” she told him. “And someone else.” She seemed confused by the last part.

            “Who?” Lex asked, bemused. It could be any of his father’s business associates, personal sycophants, even a female companion if Lionel felt this was a social call. But Lucy usually didn’t bother to mention any of _them_.

            There was a soft knock on the door and Enrique hesitantly stuck his head in. One always had to be careful around Mr. Luthor, even more so when Miss Kent was present—it wouldn’t do to walk in on an… _intimate_ situation, after all. Among the house employees only the butler, who had been in Mr. Luthor’s employ since his arrival in Smallville, was bold enough to interrupt the pair in Mr. Luthor’s home office. Fortunately they both appeared to be fully clothed and in fact separated by several feet.

            “Excuse me, Mr. Luthor,” Enrique began, “but your father has just arrived at the gate.”

            “Show him in here,” Lex told him. “So who’s with my father?” he repeated to Lucy, after Enrique had slipped out.

            Instead of answering she shook her head and sat up on the couch. “It’s something weird,” was all she could offer, which gave Lex no advantage at all.

            Lionel liked to visit him unannounced, of course, hoping to catch Lex scrambling to clean up a mess—either business or personal—or just to ruin what had been a perfectly good day. At least that was Lex’s assessment of his motives. But normally at one pm on a Monday, his father would be hip-deep in business meetings in Metropolis—although today, Lex remembered suddenly, his father had just returned from a meeting of some kind in Illinois. Lex wasn’t sure where, exactly, somewhere south of Chicago and east of St. Louis--perhaps he had been giving another impassioned speech full of half-truths and big promises to a farm board whose money he was after.

            Lex heard the front door open and close—it had a particular kind of squeak that he had forbidden Enrique from fixing, because it was a more reliable security device than all his expensive infrared detectors—and he waited for his father’s measured footsteps on the flagstone floor… but instead there were a few stomps, a dragging noise, and finally, yelling.

            Lex hurried to the doors of the office with Lucy right behind him. He couldn’t make out the words that were being shouted, but someone definitely did not want to be in his or her present situation. Lex pulled the door open before Enrique could reach them, just in time to hear his father growling a phrase Lex remembered from repeated use many years earlier.

            “Luthors do _not_ have temper tantrums!” Which was of course an utter lie, because Lex had had a few spectacular ones in his day. The statement was really just another on the endless list of “Luthors Do and Luthors Don’t” that Lionel had tried to rule him with.

            What was surprising, then, was not the comment but rather who it was directed at—a little boy, no more than six or seven, with dark hair and wrinkled clothes and a bright red face, tethered _very_ unhappily by Lionel’s hand on his arm. Lex had never seen him before in his life.

            “ _I wanna go home!_ ” the boy was screaming, writhing and twitching in Lionel’s grasp. “ _I want my mama_!”

            Lionel was completely out of his element, hair and clothes in disarray, clearly at a loss as to how to control a small irrational child who refused to listen to reason, or to be intimidated by him. Although Lex found this very entertaining to witness, he suspected his father’s next step might be something physical, so he stepped farther out into the hall.

            “Dad, what the h—l?” he asked in confusion, drawing Lionel’s attention.

            The older man abruptly spun to face him, even more irritated to be seen—although presumably that was why he had come to the castle in the first place, to see Lex. “Lex.” He attempted to speak with some dignity, a difficult task when a seven-year-old was viciously shaking your arm. “Lex, I—“

            Lucy had pushed past Lex and immediately gone to the boy, kneeling down in front of him to try and calm him. As soon as she reached for him, however, Lionel yanked him angrily away, setting off more howls, and ordered, “Don’t touch him!”

            “Don’t. Be. Stupid,” Lucy replied coldly, in a tone that finally pried Lionel’s fingers off the boy’s arm. The older man glared at Lucy as she wrapped her arms around the boy and rubbed her hand across the back of his neck—a gesture that was intended to both soothe him and to help her gain some information. The child struggled at first in her embrace, but he quickly lapsed into heartbroken sobs and allowed himself to be held as Lucy shushed him comfortingly.

            “Lex,” his father said sharply, straightening his coat and tie as Lex looked back at him. “Perhaps I could have a word with you. In your office.” It was definitely not a request.

            “Yeah,” Lex agreed, his tone indicating that there had _better_ be an explanation for this. He was about to head back into the office when he heard a strange little hitching sound, one he recognized immediately. Everyone’s attention was drawn to the child again, who had pulled away from Lucy a little and was struggling to take in a full breath, gasping for air like a fish pulled out of water.

            “Where’s his inhaler?” Lex asked his father urgently, only to find the older man rolling his eyes with little, if any, sympathy. In fact, his expression was more akin to... disgust. Lex recognized that particular look as well and wasted no more time on him; he kept an emergency inhaler in one of his desk drawers, although he hadn’t used it in years so it would probably be on the bottom, near the back—

            “Here, here, sweetie.” Lucy found the inhaler that had been stashed in one of the boy’s coat pockets and held it up for him. He manipulated it expertly, with the dexterity asthmatic children picked up right away; Lex knew from personal experience that it was either learn how to work the inhaler _now_ or feel like you were drowning on dry land. After a few puffs, the boy calmed down a bit and his breathing returned to normal, although he melted back onto Lucy’s lap still crying.

            Lionel tapped the folder he had produced from his coat impatiently, obviously less concerned about the boy’s health than about whatever discussion he wanted to have with Lex. Lex couldn’t say he was surprised. He exchanged a look with Lucy over his father’s shoulder, then gestured for the older man to enter the office. Lex carefully shut the doors behind them.

            “You look like you could use a drink, Dad,” Lex observed snidely, as his father dropped into a chair.

            “Then d—n well get me one,” Lionel snapped, and Lex’s eyes widened in surprise. Utterly failing to conceal his bemusement at his father’s mood, Lex strolled to the liquor stand and poured out a hefty glass of brandy.

            “Dad, you seem a little... agitated today,” Lex continued, milking the situation for all it was worth. He handed the glass to his father and sat down on the couch. “Anything wrong?”

            Lionel took several large sips of the alcohol before he replied. “You can wipe that smirk off your face, boy,” he suggested sourly. “I won’t be staying long.”

            “All the more reason to smile, then,” Lex answered pleasantly.

            Lionel almost tossed the folder he carried at his son, who caught it reflexively, startled by the unexpected action. In fact, his father was being, overall, unexpected and startling today. Before he had time to glance at the contents of the folder, however, Lionel started speaking again. “One of my former associates is dead. The boy is her son.”

            The folder was unlabeled, Lex noted, and the edges were crisp, unworn—almost brand new. When his father paused he lifted the heavy cardstock and skimmed through the items inside: medical records, names and phone numbers hastily written by his father, a birth certificate, some legal documents, a— _oh, s—t_. “’Based on the DNA evidence and testimony given previously, the Court hereby rules that Lionel Joseph Luthor is the natural biological father of the child known as Leo Nathanial Anding,’” Lex read flatly. There was a pause as Lex processed this information. “Holy f-----g s—t, Dad,” he commented, just a hint of anger coming through his eyes, “haven’t you ever heard of ‘safe sex’?”

            If Lionel could have shot fire from his eyes, Lex knew he would be a pile of ashes right now, but the thought didn’t intimidate him. First Lucas, now—And why did all their names start with ‘L’ anyway? If Lana Lang didn’t have her _own_ DNA test to prove Henry Small was her father, Lex would have been instantly suspicious. At least, he decided, the child’s age meant he was _not_ another reminder of his father’s infidelity.

            “I was not told.” The older man’s displeasure at the situation was obvious with every word.

            “You said you were misled about Lucas, too,” Lex reminded him, dropping the folder on the table. “I can’t imagine why a woman wouldn’t want you to know you were the father of her child.”

            Lionel gritted his teeth. “I discovered the boy’s existence less than a week ago,” he persisted, ignoring Lex’s comment. “His mother concealed his true parentage from her husband as well.” He finished off his drink. “She was killed in a car accident two weeks ago. Apparently a... discrepancy in the blood types of the boy and his alleged parents was discovered by the hospital.”

            Lex leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes briefly. He could only imagine the nightmarish scene that had ensued, worthy of any trashy made-for-TV movie—not only is your wife suddenly dead, but you also find out she had cheated on you. With Lionel Luthor, no less. Or at least gotten you to raise her ex-boyfriend’s son as your own.

            “Naturally as soon as I was contacted about this I took the appropriate legal steps,” Lionel continued.

            “Like a DNA test,” Lex guessed.

            “Of course. The wonders of modern technology.”

            “It was _awfully_ generous of you to set up your living trust so any heirs would automatically get 10% of your LuthorCorp shares,” Lex pointed out sarcastically, repeating the comment he’d made when he discovered Lucas was alive. “You keep up this trend, you won’t own any of the company yourself.”

            Lionel’s narrowed eyes indicated he’d already been irritated by that thought several times lately. He pressed on as though Lex hadn’t spoken. “I also made the custody arrangements.”

            “The—what?” Lex straightened up, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

            Lionel looked at him as if the explanation were obvious. “Well, he _is_ my son, Lex.” And those were still bizarre words to hear coming from his father, after living most of his life as an only child. “I couldn’t allow him to continue living with a man I knew nothing about.”

            Lex stared at him. “You took him away from his father!?” He was dangerously close to being shocked—never set your shock meter too high when dealing with Lionel Luthor.

            Lionel even managed to raise an eyebrow, as if his suspicions that Lex was a little slow on the uptake had just been confirmed. “ _I_ am his father, Lex, or so says the 10 th Circuit Court of the State of Illinois. And when something is mine... I lay claim to it.”

            _Tell that to Lucas and his years of forced foster care,_ Lex thought. He rephrased his objection. “You took him away from the man he _thought_ was his father, who raised him for the last... seven years?” He guessed at the age.

            Lionel waved his concern off. “The man was... below average, Lex.” He said the phrase the way other people might have said _diseased_. “He worked in a bank. A small-town bank.”

            “Oh my G-d.” Lex rubbed his temple, feeling a stress headache coming on. “Another happy home destroyed. Brought to you by LuthorCorp.”

            “It was _obviously_ a somewhat dysfunctional home from the start,” Lionel pointed out. “Given that Marissa moved so quickly from me to this... _other person_ , and then allowed _him_ to believe he was the child’s father.”

            Lex frowned suddenly. “Marissa?”

            “Marissa Collins.” Lionel attached no particular sentiment to the name. “Did you ever meet her?”

            “Just once,” the younger man sighed. “You made me partner with her in a charity tennis tournament.” He didn’t realize how much more _abstract_ the problem had been when he couldn’t place a face and a name to the boy’s mother.

            “Oh, yes, of course. You lost, as I recall.” Of course his father would recall that.

            “You would have lost, too, if you’d have played, because you s—k at tennis,” Lex shot back. His irritation was _not_ because his father was deriding his tennis skills. “But you just couldn’t stand to be ‘humiliated’ in public like that, so you took it out on _me_.” Lionel couldn’t stand to be ‘humiliated’ by the discovery of an unknown son, so he took it out on the boy, and the man who’d raised him.

            Lionel glanced at his watch. “I have an important meeting,” he announced. “I have to go.”

            Lex sighed. The possibility of anything remotely resembling a conscience permeating his father’s being was extremely small, as usual. “I’ll go find Lucy and—the boy.” He couldn’t bring himself to call—the boy by name yet. Or refer to him as his ‘brother.’

            “Don’t bother,” Lionel assured him smoothly, standing. “He won’t be coming with me.”

            Lex rose as well. He felt like there was something in his father’s statement that he wasn’t quite getting. “You mean he’s staying _here_ this afternoon? During your meeting?” _Sure, Dad, just let me drop everything to babysit—_

            “No,” Lionel corrected, “I mean he’s staying here. On a permanent basis.”

            That took a moment to work into Lex’s brain, which had absorbed quite a lot of new information in a short amount of time. “What?”

            Lionel spoke as if Lex were a particularly dull-witted child. “I want him to stay in Smallville, at the castle.” A dull-witted child who was, nonetheless, being entrusted with the care of another _actual_ child.

            “With _me_?”

            Lionel rolled his eyes and moved towards the door. “I should think that would be obvious, unless you merely _pretend_ to reside here for my benefit.”

            Lex blocked his father’s path. “Wait. A. Minute. No.” He shook his head. “There’s no way I’m looking after a child.”

            Lionel gave him a disappointed gaze. “Lex. Not even your own brother?”

            “This is _your_ mess,” Lex told him harshly. “You can’t just _dump_ him on me and run.”

            His father narrowed his eyes. “Lex,” he said briskly, “I am in the midst of _very important_ negotiations for the company—the company both _you_ and your _brothers_ ”—Lex knew he’d been waiting to spring that on him, just for the pained reaction—“have shares in. I have already spent _more_ time away from them than was wise attending to this... _problem_.”

            “Marissa Collins certainly picked an inconvenient time to die,” the younger man observed acidly.

            “Well, she always was a thoughtless woman,” Lionel shrugged. “I don’t have time to deal with the boy.”

            “And you think _I_ do?” Lex asked in irritation. “Hire someone to look after him.”

            Lionel put a hand on Lex’s shoulder, and Lex tried not to flinch. He was about to get f----d—metaphorically speaking—he just knew it. “But _who_ could I _trust_ , son?” Lionel had perfected that blend of sincerity, mockery, and lunacy that so many tried and failed to achieve. “You can surely imagine how many people would be eager to use this boy as a _pawn_ in some sort of... ill-advised _game_ with me. But I know that _you_ , as his older brother, will fall back on your emotional, protective instincts”—somehow, Lex knew he was being insulted even as his father freely used the very traits he slighted—“and ensure that the boy is properly housed, fed, educated. Loved.” He said the last word with such a poisonous smile, Lex wanted to gag right onto his expensive shoes.

            “You b-----d.”

            Lionel smirked and opened the office door. “Good-bye, son. Nice to see you. I’ll call next week.”

            “You f-----g b-----d.”

            “Just a bit of parental advice, try not to speak like that around the boy,” his father suggested, striding across the entryway to the door. “Oh, and he apparently has some sort of deadly allergy to nuts.” With that, Lionel was out the door.

 

            Lex took a few moments to calm himself and was very pleased that nothing ended up smashed or otherwise in disarray by the time he felt ready to move on to the next phase of Dealing With This. Step two was gathering information, so he sat down and read through Leo’s file thoroughly. It was a hodgepodge of records and information hastily thrown together—he could only imagine the court clerks and hospital interns xeroxing away in a panic with his father looming over them impatiently. The boy was allergic to nuts, as Lionel had said, and he was asthmatic, as they had observed... Well, at least now they knew which side of the family was to blame for _those_ afflictions, Lex thought darkly. Otherwise he seemed healthy. _1\. Take to pediatrician for check-up,_ Lex noted on his mental list of Things to Do About This.

            There were no school records _per se_ , but there _was_ a report card from several months earlier indicating that he had attended first grade at Mount Olive Elementary School in Mount Olive, Illinois. _2\. Request school records from Mount Olive be transferred to Smallville. 3. Register for school in Smallville. 4. Do thorough background check on Mount Olive, Illinois._ Of course doing a thorough background check on everyone and everything connected to the boy was a necessity that hardly needed to be mentioned. Lex noted that the boy had received A’s in Reading, Spelling, and Social Studies but B’s in Science and Math. _5\. Buy children’s books. 6. Inquire about math and science tutor._ Number 5 reminded Lex of more additions: _7\. Buy children’s clothing. 8. Buy toys. 9. Call Lucas and tell him._ This list was getting quite extensive.

            Lex winced as he pulled out a family photograph of the Andings, obviously taken on a happy day. He wouldn’t have recognized Marissa, he decided—he probably wouldn’t have recognized her anyway, but she had definitely lost the well-kept, glamorous demeanor his father preferred in his companions. She looked like—the wife of a man who worked at a small-town bank. Maybe a little more stylish than her neighbors’ wives, but—she wouldn’t have looked out of place on the streets of Smallville. Her husband—Lex glanced quickly through the folder for his name; Michael Anding—was a little portly, a solidly built man, with a face you wouldn’t really call handsome unless he meant something to you. And in the middle, surrounded by both loving parents, was the boy. Leo.

            He looked like a Luthor, Lex decided, more than _he_ did, anyway. Lex had always favored his mother, with a meteorite twist. Lucas and Leo both had dark, thick hair, like Lionel—and G-d, this L thing was really getting ridiculous. But Michael Anding was also on the swarthy side, perhaps part Italian even, and although Marissa’s hair was blond in the picture Lex thought he remembered her as a brunette, so the boy didn’t really look out of place. In fact, all three of them looked like they _belonged_ together. Lex knew happiness could be faked in photos—the LuthorCorp family Christmas card every year that his mother was alive testified to that, as the three of them arranged themselves in a configuration very similar to the one in the picture before him. But somehow he felt that in _this_ case, the mother wasn’t struggling to stand without coughing, the father wasn’t impatient to get back to his meetings, and the son wasn’t being bribed with a $5000 go‑cart to stand there quietly and behave (not that the bribe worked).

            _10\. Call Michael Anding._ Yet another wonderful chore Lex was sure his father hadn’t bothered to think about—not beyond, “Lex will take care of it,” anyway. But he ought to at least let the man know that... the boy was in Smallville and being looked after.

            Lex skimmed through the legal documents in the folder, then decided that Number 11 would be _Call lawyers. Get details on custody arrangement and trust fund._ Although Lex suspected his father had managed to swoop in, throw a lot of money around, and completely abscond with the boy in a very legal kidnapping, he wanted to make sure he wasn’t supposed to fly the child back to Illinois once a month or anything like that. And he also wanted to make sure the boy’s 10% of LuthorCorp stayed somewhere safe and untouchable—by anyone.

            Lex sighed, his head throbbing. The worst part was his father had been absolutely right—he’d barely even met the boy and here he was worrying about school records and trust funds. Even one of his father’s closest associates, like that weasel Dominic, would still be concentrating on what percentage of the boy’s money he could get away with taking as “compensation” for looking after him. _12\. Hire nanny._ Lex decided his list didn’t have to be followed in numerical order, since Number 12 seemed like a great place to start at this point.

 

****

 

            It took Lex a little while to get used to the unfamiliar sounds—but less time than he thought it would. In fact, it became an almost comforting sort of background noise, the irregular _clop clop_ of bits of wood being clunked together, with an occasional louder clatter as a group of pieces spilled onto the flagstone floor. Lex even noticed when the sounds ceased and glanced up from the report on his laptop to the corner beside the fireplace, where Leo was surveying the structure he had completed.

            “Whatcha got there, buddy?” Lex asked idly, squinting at the object constructed out of dark brown wood sections.

            “It’s a log cabin,” the boy replied, adjusting the green slat roof a bit.

            Lex thought about it for a moment—since the toy consisted of a pile of wooden blocks cut into the shape of notched logs, he supposed that was all one _could_ make with it. Seemed rather limiting to him, but Leo was fascinated by it and would play with it quietly for hours. “A log cabin, huh?” His conversations with his youngest brother didn’t exactly have an intellectual flair to them, but Lucy said just responding to the boy was the important part. “How’d you do that chimney there?”

            Leo plucked the red wooden block off the roof to show Lex the notch that perfectly fitted the angle of the roof. “It’s got a hole in it there, so it just sits right there,” he explained, then carefully reset the block in the exact same spot.

            “So, now that you’ve built the cabin,” Lex continued casually, “what are you going to do next?”

            Leo gave the building a critical appraisal. “It’s not a cabin, it’s a trading post,” he decided, reaching for some of his green plastic army men that were piled nearby. The boy began placing the army men in and around the wooden shelter, with such serious deliberation as to their positions that Lex had to cover a smile with his hand. “The fur trappers are coming to the trading post to get cornmeal and bullets and rope and stuff.” The seven-year-old had been going through a “frontier” phase lately—all fur trappers, all the time. He even claimed he wanted to learn French, in honor of his primarily French-Canadian heroes, but Lex was waiting to see if the obsession persisted before engaging a tutor. Mrs. Kent had assured him that such fixations were normal in children of his age—although apparently they usually centered on things like trains or dinosaurs or construction equipment. Lex had decided that the fur trapper interest indicated a level of sophistication somewhat above the average seven-year-old.

            The older man shook his head and turned back to his work, skimming Gabe Sullivan’s report on the Plant’s physical condition before he sent it on to the overlords at LuthorCorp. A few major upgrades in the facilities would really help their productivity, but Lex had a feeling the bean counters in Metropolis wouldn’t be too enthusiastic about the extra expenditures—and neither would his father.

            Think of the devil, and you see his horns. There was a quick knock on the office door, then Enrique stuck his head in and announced, “Mr. Luthor’s car is at the gate, sir.”

            Lex took a deep breath that he was going to let out as a sigh, but he thought of the boy in the room and changed his mind. “Show him in when he arrives, Enrique,” he replied evenly, and the butler nodded and slipped out. Lex turned towards the child, trying to make his expression light-hearted, but Leo was watching him with narrowed eyes. More proof of his outstanding perceptive abilities.

            “Why don’t you go upstairs and play for a while?” Lex suggested, hoping he had hit on the correct tone of voice that would encourage the boy to do as he asked, instead of the opposite.

            “That’s your dad, right?” Leo asked tentatively, clutching one of the unused wooden blocks. “Who’s coming?”

            Lex nodded slowly. “That’s right,” he agreed, wondering where this was going. And could he get it going any faster?

            Leo’s gaze dropped to his lap, as if he found the stiff denim of his new jeans fascinating. “That’s _my_ dad, too...” He bit his lip and Lex felt like he’d swallowed a piece of ice. He couldn’t even think of a curse strong enough to apply to Lionel right now, for ripping this boy out of the only home he’d ever known.

            The older man took the expedient, if slightly cowardly in his mind, way out and refused to confirm or deny the boy’s statement. Instead he swiveled around in his chair to face Leo, leaning down to be slightly more at eye level with him. “Go on upstairs and play for a little while, alright?” Lex repeated, firm but not... cold, he hoped. “He probably wants to talk about business. It’s boring.” Lex made a little face to show how unpleasant boring business conversations were and hoped to h—l no hidden cameras had caught it... the theoretical surveillance guys would be in stitches. But Leo smiled a little bit, and that seemed to be more important.

            Lex heard the front door open as his father entered the house, but the footsteps coming towards the office door were far too hurried and a sinking feeling appeared in his chest. Why couldn’t his father ever _call_ first, like a _normal_ business associate—even when he was in a bad mood, _especially_ when he was in a bad mood? The door burst open and Lionel strode angrily into the office, and Lex d—n well knew better than to glance toward Leo. The younger man jumped up out of his chair and went to meet his father in the middle of the room, knowing that Lionel’s view of the boy’s play area would be blocked by the furniture if he didn’t get too far into the office. With any luck, he could convince his father to relocate to the study or the lounge or, h—l, outside even, anywhere that wasn’t this room—and when did he start thinking about Leo having to “escape” their father?

            Lionel brandished a handful of papers at Lex as if they were a sword, a particularly sharp one. “What the _h—l_ is this?” he demanded, eyes cold as ice.

            Lex glanced at Enrique over his father’s shoulder, a signal for the servant to stop hovering in the doorway and leave, which he did immediately. Enrique could be a little... overly concerned sometimes. “Dad, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lex replied in a reasonable tone, trying to glimpse at least a letterhead on the papers that might give him some clue.

            “Cadmus Labs,” Lionel practically growled, and Lex frowned. That didn’t really explain anything... unless—

            “I told you to sell it months ago,” Lionel continued, advancing on Lex, and the younger man didn’t have any choice but to back up because he felt certain his father was just going to run him over like a tank if he didn’t. “And now, not only do I find out that you _haven’t_ —from _Prissock_ ”—s—t, the CEO of the company Lionel was trying to buy out—“but I’m _also_ learning you’ve been conducting _illegal_ experiments on those d—n meteors—“

            Lex was almost back at his desk now, and he had to keep his father’s attention directed at _him_ and not at the room in general. He hoped Leo had the sense to stay quiet and still. Hiding somewhere would be better yet. Perhaps fleeing the room while Lionel’s back was to the door. “What do you care about my experiments, Dad?” he challenged. “You’re doing the same things with _your_ scientists.” Which was true enough. “And LuthorCorp doesn’t own Cadmus, LexCorp does—“

            His father moved quickly, not surprising for a fencer, grabbing the front of Lex’s shirt and slamming him hard against the desk. For a moment the breath was knocked out of Lex’s lungs, both by the force of the blow and in surprise, and he had an instant of panicked flashback to the asthma attacks of his childhood. When he was able to inhale again he found himself practically bent over the desk, a paperweight digging painfully into his back, his father leaning over him, teeth bared, hair flying, like a deranged lion.

            “LexCorp”—Lionel spat the name out like it was a bit of rotten meat—“is nothing but a childish indulgence, a pinprick of adolescent rebellion dressed in business clauses that I have tolerated for far too—“ He broke off suddenly, as if distracted by something, and Lex took the opportunity to try prying his father’s fingers off his clothing. G-d, he’d really gone ‘round the bend this time, he probably had barely _slept_ since he started these negotiations with Prissock—

            Too late Lex realized what his father was looking at, as Lionel pulled back enough for the younger man to see Lionel’s long black coat being tugged with all the strength a seven-year-old could possess. “Let go of him!” Leo shouted stubbornly, and suddenly Lex felt like he was choking again.

            Especially when his father smiled coldly and reached a free hand towards the boy, chasing him only a moment before he grasped his arm. “What’s this?” Lionel asked, easing Lex up as he focused on holding Leo far enough away that the boy couldn’t kick him in the shins. “You’ve got a new _bodyguard_ , have you, Lex?”

            “Dad, let him go,” Lex said, trying to project some sort of ‘urgent calm,’ instead of the ‘frantic panic’ that he was actually feeling. Leo just looked so tiny, and his father so huge, looming above him like a dark figure from any child’s nightmare, and all it would take was one swipe of Lionel’s hand, not even necessarily _meant_ to hurt—“Let him go, Dad.”

            The very instant Lionel’s fingers relaxed their grip on Leo’s arm—because Lex sure as h—l wasn’t going to start a tug-of-war with him--Lex caught the boy and lifted him protectively, holding him against his chest. Small arms twined tightly around his neck, small legs wrapped around his waist, a small heart pounded rapidly against his own. Lex glared at his father over the boy’s shoulder, eyes wide and watchful for anymore of this erratic behavior. “J---s C----t, Dad.”

            Lionel snorted, as if _Lex_ were the one overreacting, and moved off to pour himself a drink from the liquor stand. “Honestly, Lex,” he began patronizingly, “you think I would actually _harm_ one of my own children?”

            Countless examples sprang to Lex’s mind, not the least of which was the line of bruises in the shape of a desk lip that would be spreading across Lex’s lower back by the end of the day. The image of Zeus the thunder-god swallowing his own children leapt into Lex’s mind, but instead he replied acidly, “No, you’ll just scare them half to death.”

            “I wasn’t scared,” Leo whispered fiercely in his ear, though his shoulders shook in Lex’s arms.

            _Please don’t let him have an asthma attack right now, please,_ Lex begged silently. His father might just kill them both. “I know,” he assured the boy quietly, petting his back in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. Lionel watched in mild amusement, which only seemed to grow when he saw the hatred radiating from Lex’s eyes.

            “Tell the boy to leave, so we can have a _serious_ discussion about _business_ ,” he demanded arrogantly, sipping his drink. He even turned away a little, as if just _knowing_ that his commandment would be fulfilled. _B-----d_.

            Lex carried Leo to the door and wrenched it open. Enrique was, not surprisingly, standing just beyond it, trying to look as though he had only been dusting in the hallway, not _hovering_.

            “Get down, Leo,” Lex told him, loosening his grip on the boy.

            Leo shook his head. “I don’t wanna go.”

            “I know,” Lex replied. “But I need you to go upstairs with Enrique now.” The butler hurried forward, reaching for the boy. Somehow it was easier to transfer him laterally than to set him on the floor. “I need you to go upstairs to your room and wait there, okay?” Only with great reluctance did the seven-year-old detach himself from Lex, and the older man felt strangely cold and unsteady without his warmth and weight. Leo twisted in Enrique’s arms to look back at his older brother, and Lex tried to smile reassuringly. “You go upstairs and play, and I’ll come see you pretty soon, okay?”

            _I’m a Luthor, what kind of fool do you take me for?_ his blue eyes seemed to say, but he nodded slowly and at a glance from Lex Enrique whisked him away. As soon as they were out of sight Lex set his jaw and turned back to the office, steely reserve in place. His father was going to pay for this. Lex would make certain of it.

**Author's Note:**

> That's all for Lucy. Next I'll be posting another Smallville series.


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